Not Kids Anymore
by Tifaching
Summary: Dean's got plans for a romantic dinner.


_It's not like it's freakin' rocket science. _Dean shakes his head as he stares at what he's got laid out in front of him. He hasn't been this nervous since Dad took him on his first hunt.

He's managed to get Lisa's good china on the table without chipping anything and that feels like a little victory in itself. The holiday silver is set beside the plates in an order he's never bothered with before- fork to the left; knife, then spoon to the right. One fork only; there's no way he's figuring anything else out before she gets home. The crystal wine glasses sparkle in the glow of candlelight. She'll be home any second and he wants everything to be just right.

There's an open bottle of red wine in the center of the table. The clerk at the liquor store had said it was a good one, and had counseled Dean to open it before serving so it could breathe. Dean side-eyes the bottle and snorts softly; if it starts breathing he's taking it down. The food is warming in the oven. It's take-out, but from the best restaurant in town. His cooking skills have improved dramatically since he's been in one place long enough to learn a few things, but he's not up to making a romantic dinner on his own.

The front door clicks open and the time to make everything perfect is over. Dean scans his preparations one last time. It's the best he can do and he hopes it's enough.

"Something smells amazing!" Lisa calls from the front hall. Her gym bag hits the floor with a thud, then she rounds the corner into the dining room, stopping short at the sight that greets her. "You look…" she begins, trailing off as she stares at him.

"Respectable?" It's what he was going for but not something he's had much practice at.

Lisa grins. "Hot was the word I had in mind."

Dean's wearing a suit, minus the jacket and tie, white button down shirt open at the throat. The slacks are a perfect fit and Lisa's eyes run up and down him appreciatively. She'd come straight from her last class of the evening, only throwing a pair of sweatpants on over her leotard.

"I feel underdressed."

"You look fine to me."

"That's sweet," she says, tugging at her ponytail.

"It's true," he replies, and it is. She always looks beautiful to him.

"Well," she says, running her gaze over the table, "this isn't the kind of dinner a girl sits down to in her workout clothes. Let me run up and change and then you can serve me whatever you've got cooking." Her smile curves up flirtatiously. "And I can't wait to see what you've got planned for dessert."

Dean waggles his eyebrows but doesn't speak. Actually he got chocolate mousse for dessert, but they don't necessarily have to eat it at the table. Or out of a bowl.

"Hey, Lisa," he calls and she pauses halfway up the stairs. "Is this going to be one of those 'I'll run up and change's' where you're back in ten minutes looking fantastic, or one of those 'I'll run up and change's' where you're back in an hour looking fantastic." The directions from the restaurant had just said to keep the food warm, and he's done that, but he doesn't want to let it sit too long.

"Fifteen minute," Lisa promises. "I'm starving."

Dean fiddles with the place settings, refolds the napkins and doesn't pour himself a tumbler of bourbon to calm his nerves. Not tonight. He can get by without it for just one night.

True to her word, Lisa is back in fifteen minutes and now it's Dean's turn to stare. They don't go out much. Well, he doesn't anyway and this outfit is new to him. Lisa looks as good in a little black dress and pearls as any woman he's ever seen. Wordlessly, he walks over and holds out her chair, pressing a kiss to her cheek as she sits. He doesn't move for a moment, unable to look away from her and she tilts her head up and him and grins.

"I think I heard something about food, here?"

"Oh," Dean shakes his head. "Yeah. I'll just go get on that."

He's back in no time, sliding a plate in front of Lisa before setting his own down and taking his seat. Lisa closes her eyes and inhales deeply.

"Mmmmm," she murmurs. "Chicken cordon bleu, rice pilaf, _asparagus. _I'm so impressed that you remembered a vegetable."

Dean pours the wine and settles back, raising his glass. "To the most beautiful woman in the world. And the only one that could get me to eat my vegetables."

Lisa raises her glass in return and takes a sip, smiling at the grimace Dean makes when he drinks. "I thought you didn't like wine."

Dean resolutely takes another sip. "You said it's an acquired taste, and I'm trying to acquire a taste for it."

Lisa's smile dims just a little. She doesn't say anything, but Dean knows what she's thinking. The last thing he needs to acquire a taste for any more kinds of alcohol. He clears his throat and puts his glass back on the table.

"This is amazing, Dean. The food is delicious. How long have you been planning this?"

"Oh, a little while. And all the credit for the food goes to Sandy down at The Four Lions. She did all the cooking and told me how not to ruin her hard work once I got it home."

"What's the occasion?" She's truly curious. She knows Dean's got hidden depths, but this is out of the blue.

"It's just that, you know, I've never…" Dean's not sure how to finish. He's never really thanked her for taking him in when it seemed like his life was over; for everything she's done to keep him going since then. He looks her straight in the eye, putting everything he's feeling into his words. "I've never really said, thank you. For everything."

Lisa looks away for a moment, takes another sip of wine and asks, "Do you remember when we met?"

Her tone is serious; far too serious for the memories Dean's suddenly got running through his mind. "Best weekend of my life," he tells her and he means it.

"That's all it was, though." Her voice is quiet. "A weekend. Back then did you see us where we are today?"

"Back then I wasn't looking any further ahead than the next day. My line of work, I didn't even think I'd make it this far."

"We were kids, Dean. We were out looking for a good time and we found it."

"We sure did." Dean's grin is more like a leer. "It was also the bendyest weekend of my life. Though I've had some come close lately."

Lisa doesn't spit her wine out onto her plate but it's a close call. "Well," she says wryly, "being a yoga instructor does have its perks. I'm sure it took a lot to make an impression on you. My point, though, is that it _was _just a weekend. I sure never thought I'd see you again."

"But you did."

"But I did. I'm sure you remember the circumstances just as well as I do."

Dean just nods. He'd meant to look Lisa up when he and Sam had come to Cicero for their hunt, but he'd had no idea that she and her son would be in the thick of it. He'd saved Lisa, saved Ben, and the attraction he'd felt for the woman had hit him between the eyes as hard as it had eight years earlier. Neither of them had been twenty any more. Lisa had made a life for herself; a good one, despite being a single mother. He hadn't done quite so well, seeing that he was facing Hell in a few months time. He might not have stayed then, but he might have seen if they still could have had something if he'd had any kind of future. He _had_ gone to Hell though and he wasn't even the same screwed up man he'd been two years ago. He doesn't know what Lisa was thinking, taking him in.

Lisa's watching him think and he tries to keep his expression neutral. There aren't many people who can see through his mask, but Lisa's getting better at it. He takes a bite of chicken to give himself a minute.

"When you showed up on my doorstep then, I was shocked." Lisa's smiling again. "But I wasn't unhappy about it. I'd thought about you over the years. I always wondered what had happened to you."

"Bet you never came up with the right answer." Dean's smiling a little himself now, but it's not a happy expression.

"Hunter of supernatural bad things? No, I never would have come up with that." She leans forward and takes his hand across the table. "But that's who you are. And even after I found that out I wanted you to stay."

"I couldn't. Not then."

"You can now, though. And I really want you to." Her voice softens. "I didn't let you stay out of gratitude or pity, no matter what you might think. You're here because I care about you. And because I really think we have something."

"I think so too. It's just…"

"Just what?"

_Dean doesn't want to tell her that the universe is really bad at letting have anything that he wants as badly as he wants things to work here. "Just that I'm afraid I'll mess it up."_

"We all mess things up sometimes, Dean. What's important is that we try to fix our mistakes." Lisa sits back and looks forlornly at her empty plate. "You sure didn't make any mistakes with that dinner," she sighs.

Dean's own plate is bare except for the few spears of asparagus that he can't bring himself to eat. "It didn't turn out to be quite as romantic as I wanted. Or as upbeat."

Lisa leans forward and puffs out one candle, then the other. "It was plenty romantic," she says with a smile, "and the good thing about moods is that they can change in an instant." She stands and stretches sinuously. "Suddenly, I'm feeling _overdressed. _How about you?"

"I could lose a few layers." Dean shoots a quick glance toward the kitchen and Lisa catches him at it.

"Did you have something _else_ in mind for dessert?"

"Oh, I think we can combine our dessert ideas into something we'll both find…delicious. Why don't you head on up and get started on that 'overdressed' thing. I'll be up in a few minutes."

"Don't be long," she sends over her shoulder as she heads up the stairs.

Dean checks the windows and doors quickly, but thoroughly. Not even the thought of Lisa waiting for him would make him neglect her safety. He detours through the kitchen before heading upstairs, picking up the chocolate mousse, a couple of spoons and a can of whipped cream. They might not be twenty any more, but that doesn't mean they still can't act like they are.


End file.
